


burning out his fuse

by shxnji



Category: Bodyguard (TV 2018), Kingsman (Movies)
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Physical Abuse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, References to Addiction, eggvid
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-11
Updated: 2019-09-28
Packaged: 2020-10-14 08:41:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20597909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shxnji/pseuds/shxnji
Summary: two lost souls share a drink.





	1. would you rather?

**Author's Note:**

> this is super short and rushed and messy and i only read it over once so it probably fucking sucks but i just wanted to get my writing urge out. i just started college and it's not fantastic, so i love to vent through fictional characters!!! anyway i can't decide if i'll continue this or just leave it at this. let me know what y'all think. hope u enjoy

**11:48 P.M.**

_It’s too fucking loud here_, Eggsy thinks to himself, eyes narrowing as if that would do anything to quiet the stereo. Whether it’s the noise or the anxiety causing his head to pound, he can’t tell. It hurts like a bitch either way and he needs a cigarette.

But this? This is his element. Surrounded by enough people to be able to blend into the crowd and forget that he’s a real person for a few hours. Not some kid with bruises circling his wrists. Here he could drink until the world felt hazy and the bruises just turned into another bracelet.

Charlie was always there—smile wide, hair pushed back and a cigarette hanging between his lips. A Greek marble statue in a crisp white shirt with powder still lingering on the edge of his nostril. Everyone waits for Charlie before any of the real fun starts. That’s the unspoken rule of parties here.

Eggsy supposes that’s how he fell in love with him in the first place—well, before all the shit started. The bruising shit. The bleeding shit. The 2 a.m. hospital visits shit. It’s going to kill them both someday, but Eggsy would die by Charlie’s hand before breaking his heart. So there they stayed, basking in the haziness of dimmed lights and some help from a bit of booze. The gods of the party.

“Eggsy,” a voice says, irritated enough to indicate it hadn’t been the first time his name had been called. “Take this.” It’s Charlie, shoving another drink in his hand. Some odd concoction in a sweating glass. He does, because it’s Charlie, and he always does what Charlie says. He earns a wink as his boyfriend slinks off into the mass of writhing bodies. Eggsy takes a sip and winces, then downs it in a few gulps.

**12:30 A.M.**

It’s an hour or so later when that guy arrives. _The_ guy, the one Eggsy had seen around campus occasionally. The one with the stunning blue eyes and sleek black hair. _Frank Sinatra eyes and fluffy pillow lips_, he once thought with amusement. He’s sitting in an armchair in the corner with a shot glass in one hand and a phone in the other, eyes trained to the screen with the intensity of a soldier or something. Eggsy takes a seat next to him.

“We go to school together, yeah?” he says, voice much wobblier than he’d expected. “Seen you around. Never seen you at a party before, though.”

The guy pulls his gaze away from the screen and they lock eyes. There are bags under them. “Possibly,” he replies, voice thick with an emotion Eggsy can’t quite place. There is silence for a moment before Eggsy extends his hand.

“Eggsy,” he says. “Eggsy Unwin. Business major. Master of parties and getting absolutely shitfaced.” No usual obligatory chuckle.

“David Budd,” is all the guy offers.

“Well, David. What brings you here tonight?” asks Eggsy, lips loose. There’s a brief pause before David answers, voice low in his throat, eyes dark.

“I—I want to forget some stuff for a while.”

Eggsy grins in reply. “You’ve come to the right guy then, mate.”

**1:02 A.M.**

“Think you might be a bit fucked in the head, bruv,” Eggsy remarks as David takes a shot of vodka.

“Oh, yeah?” David grins, nose scrunched up as the taste of alcohol dulls on his tongue and stings his throat. It’s the first genuine smile Eggsy has gotten out of him all night. “Just because I would rather be a reverse merman than a reverse centaur?”

“Think about it. You’d only be able to live in the water, yeah? ‘Cause you’ve got gills and shit. But if you was a centaur you could live on land _and_ have some nasty teeth to bite with,” Eggsy explains. Another grin from David.

“Alright, I can see what you mean, but I also think I might rather live underwater. Don’t have to encounter many people down there,” he replies. Eggsy nods and glances at the next _‘Would You Rather?’_ question on his phone screen. “Would you rather eat a snail or a worm?” he asks.

David laughs and shakes his head. Eggsy doesn’t hear his answer.

**-**

**-**

**-**

Charlie had been better at first. Really, he had been. He’d only ever hit Eggsy a few times, and never hard enough to make him bleed. Not like his stepdad did. No, never like that. Not the can’t-even-barely-fucking-breathe beatings he got from Dean as a kid.

Eggsy knew how to lay low. How to keep himself out of trouble. Where to step on wooden floorboards so they wouldn’t creak as much when stepped on. Where to hide food in case he couldn’t leave his room for days on end. So when Charlie started it—the beatings—he was used to it. Part of Eggsy thinks he secretly craved it. Wanted it. Needed it. Deserved it.

It meant Charlie really loved him. Loved him enough to beat some fucking sense into him on a Wednesday night when he broke Charlie’s favorite mug and spilled tea all over his new rug. And even though the dorm room walls were paper thin, nobody came to check on them when Charlie screamed at him to stop fucking crying, because that’s what boyfriends do, he’d told Eggsy. He made his lips bleed because he cares about him. Because he loves him.

Now that he thought about it, Dean must have really loved him, too.

**1:45 A.M.**

David’s been quiet for a while. Someone had taken to smashing beer bottles in another room and all of a sudden he got this odd, far-off look in his eyes. Eggsy is sitting on the couch across from David waiting for him to move again, watching his jaw muscles work and his hands shake as he curls them up into tight fists. _Probably took some bad drugs_, Eggsy thinks.

“I can go if you want,” Eggsy starts, voice slow and cautious. Careful not to get bitten.

David doesn’t move at all. His breathing is odd. He’s sweating a bit. His hands are still shaking. Then, slowly, he puts his head in his hands. His shoulders begin to shudder, and—is he crying?

“Had a bit too much to drink there, yeah?” says Eggsy, trying desperately to lighten the mood. When he gets no reaction, he moves to sit next to David on the couch. “Mate, it’s alright. You’re alright, yeah?”

David shakes his head vigorously and lets out some strangled noise from between his fingers. Eggsy gently places his palm on David’s back. No retaliation. No movement to get away. So he keeps his hand there for a while as David’s body shudders under the weight of whatever he is carrying.

**2:33 A.M.**

David is gone when Eggsy wakes up on that vomit stained couch.

He rubs the sleep from his eyes and checks the time on his phone screen. 2:33 a.m., it reads. _He’s probably gone home by now._

It’s with that thought that Eggsy sets off to find Charlie again. It’s not difficult—he can usually be found dancing on top of some table for a bunch of stupid college students, or getting shitfaced playing drinking games in the kitchen. And that’s where he happened to be, actually; in the kitchen doing shots with god knows who. Anyone and everyone.

“Hey, babe, it’s a bit late,” Eggsy says, arm linking with his boyfriend’s.

“Busy right now, okay?” Charlie slurs in reply. The group of people around him laughs as if that’s the funniest thing they’ve heard all night. “Grab yourself a drink.”

Eggsy unwraps himself from Charlie and huffs as he swipes a beer from the table, popping it open and taking a swig.

**4:04 A.M.**

Eggsy’s forehead kisses the cool porcelain of the toilet more passionately than he has ever kissed Charlie before.

His head is throbbing like a bitch, and he can hear a faint buzzing noise in his ears. He doesn’t want to open his eyes. He just wants to lay there for a while, sweaty forehead pressed to the cold toilet seat. It smells like sweat and vomit and piss. He can’t tell if that’s coming from him, or if it’s just the normal bathroom smell.

“You’re awake,” says a familiar voice. Eggsy turns around too quickly and almost vomits again. David is sitting across from him, knees pulled up to his chest and an amused twinkle in his eye. “Thought I’d lost you for a second. You took a right nasty fall.”

Eggsy clutches his head as the memory swims back again. “Fuck me,” he groans, earning a chuckle from David.

“Been trying all night,” David retorts. Eggsy snorts despite the fact that it feels like his brain is trying to leak out of his skull. There is silence for a few moments as David chews on his bottom lip, seemingly working up the courage to say something. “I wouldn’t normally bring something like this up, but… do you want to tell me about those bruises?”

Eggsy’s grin falters, but he keeps it plastered on as his brain screams: _play dumb!_

“Don’t know what you’re on about. You’ve definitely had a bit too much,” he replies, gaze flicking to the yellowing tile on the bathroom floor. David’s stare feels like icy bullets against his skin.

“Circling your right wrist. Looks like fingerprints to me,” he says, voice low and serious. He pauses for a reply that never comes. “Listen, Eggsy, if you need help—”

“I don’t need your fucking sympathy, okay? I’m fine. Get off my dick,” Eggsy snaps. The way David seems to physically shut down hurts almost worse than if he had just swallowed his pride. “I mean—it’s fine. Everything’s—fine.”

David nods. “Alright.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine.” Pause. “I was planning to kill myself tonight.”

Eggsy chokes on nothing. “What?”

“Wrote out a note and everything. But then you came up to me and… you were genuinely kind. Offered to have a drink with me,” says David. Eggsy is staring in disbelief.

“David, I—”

“Don’t,” he interrupts. “I’m fine. I just—wanted to let you know that you’re not alone in whatever is… going on.”

Eggsy nods soundlessly. “Want to come back to my place?”


	2. bandages

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SUPER super super short chapter, just wanted to get something out there and get my writing juices flowing. yeah. thank you for all the positive feedback on the first chapter, i hope to continue this fic soon!!!

“Home sweet home,” says Eggsy as he unlocks the door to his apartment. He pushes it open and stumbles inside, feeling the firm grip of David’s hand on his shoulder as he starts to tip over a bit too far to one side.

“Careful there,” David chuckles. He gently closes the door behind them and takes to helping Eggsy over to the couch.

“‘m fine,” Eggsy protests, though he’s obviously in no state to argue.

“Where do you keep your medical supplies?” David asks, eyes scanning the room. Eggsy takes a moment to remember in his drunken state. 

“Kitchen, far left cabinet,” he finally replies, dabbing at the wound on his head. David frowns and furrows his eyebrows, chastising his companion with a “Don’t touch it” before going off in search of the cabinet. 

The apartment looks about the same as David’s as far as layout: small living area with a television, a tattered couch and a few chairs, even smaller kitchen immediately to the right, and bedrooms scattered behind closed doors. He finds the cabinet and digs around until he finds a clear plastic box full of bandaids and whatnot.

“Let me see your head,” says David as he takes a seat beside his patient. Eggsy brushes his hair out of the way to reveal a small gash at his temple from the fall he had taken earlier. David fishes a cleansing wipe out of the box and gently wipes the crusted blood away, eliciting a wince and a hiss from Eggsy.

“Sorry,” David apologizes.

“S’okay,” replies Eggsy. “I've had worse.”

“Are you experiencing any dizziness?” asks David, gaze concentrated on applying some sort of ointment to the wound. 

“I’m fucking pissed. What do you think, mate?” Eggsy responds, lips stretched in a lopsided grin.

“I guess checking for a concussion while you’re drunk won’t heed the best results,” David says, fighting back a smile. He presses a bandage to Eggsy’s forehead and leans back to admire his work. “There. All better now.”

“Thanks,” says Eggsy. He stares at his shoes while David places the supplies back in the box, careful to make the items seem untouched.

“Why do you want to kill yourself?” Eggsy blurts. David flinches. It would have been almost undetectable if Eggsy hadn’t been watching for it. 

“Let’s get you to bed, shall we?” David deflects.

“Nah, you got to ask me an uncomfortable question. It’s my turn,” Eggsy shoots back. David’s eyes narrow slightly. “But you never answered the question,” he retorts. Eggsy pauses, then shrugs. “Fair enough.”

So they sit there for awhile. Eggsy gets to keep his bruises, and David gets to keep his thoughts. And… it’s fine for a bit. It’s fine as they sit together bathing in the silence at this ungodly hour. It’s fine until Eggsy’s skin starts to crawl and he has to do something,  _ anything _ , to break the stillness. His eyes travel to David’s lips.  _ Fluffy pillow lips _ , he thinks again, and before he knows it he’s leaning in and he can feel David’s breath hot on his lips and he can hear his heart beating faster and--

“Woah there,” says David, gently pushing Eggsy’s shoulder away. “I don’t think that’s the best idea. You’ve got a boyfriend.”

“How do you know?” Eggsy says, wiping at his lips with wobbly hands as if that would erase what he had just done. 

“Everyone knows Charlie. I may keep my distance, but I don’t live under a rock.”

“I don’t give a fuck,” he slurs in reply. His throat starts to constrict and he can feel tears stinging at his eyes. God, why the fuck is he about to cry right now?

“Charlie might,” David responds, eyes wandering to the shades of purple staining Eggsy’s wrist. “Come on now. Off to bed.”

At this, Eggsy realises how hard he’s been fighting to keep his eyes open, and he can’t find the energy to disagree. He lets David lead him into his bedroom and help him onto the bed.

“There we go,” David says under his breath. He freezes as a hand grabs his arm.

“I’ll see you again, yeah?” Eggsy’s voice is small, almost pleading. 

“Course,” replies David, attempting to pull away. 

“No, I--” Eggsy’s grip tightens. David notices he’s trembling ever so slightly. “Don’t do anything stupid. Please.”

David is quiet for a moment before nodding. “Alright.”

And that’s enough for Eggsy to finally relax. 


End file.
